


Nooses Round the Prison Bars

by skorpsion



Series: ropes against wrists [1]
Category: Town of Salem - Fandom
Genre: Hatemance, Multi, whoops how do i tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3840841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skorpsion/pseuds/skorpsion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe he isn't really the Serial Killer, but what do I care? They'll see that he's a monster. They'll all see the noose around his neck, and then they'll see how pathetic their precious Jailor really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nooses Round the Prison Bars

**Author's Note:**

> Written as per request on the Town of Salem forums, an Executioner/Jailor fic.
> 
> (wow what do you mean there aren't any other town of salem shipfics on ao3)

He stands across me in the town square. It's almost fitting, really. Like a standoff every day, my eyes piercing into his as we lock in battle.

Except not really.

He doesn't know. He doesn't know. He ruined my entire goddamn life and everything I stand for, but he stands there next to the Mayor, whispering all his latest leads or whatever people talk about. Whatever people who have a real purpose in life talk about, that is.

I have to see his blood, his hands scrabbling desperately at his throat that fails to provide oxygen with his windpipe being crushed in the noose that's killed so many people, dangling and twitching for the entire town to see. Everyone has to see how breakable and fragile and pathetic he truly is. And every day, as they vote out people and fling accusations like throwing knives, I bide my time to write down "evidence" and accusations and how he holds a knife while the town sleeps in their beds. Perhaps he does work with the town, but that doesn't matter to me. The town can go up in flames for all i care; I only want to see him hang from their precious noose.

And the time is right. All the right little insinuations were made, and all the right coincidences.

"I found the Serial Killer!" and I point my finger at that thrice damned man, who waves his hands like he actually is innocent, and there's real rage on my face that the town can finally see like a mask that's broken open into a hateful butterfly. "I'm the Sheriff, and I saw him kill the Investigator." I snarl, and I don't care what the town thinks now. He has to die. He has to die now.

The Mayor looks at me oddly, and I start the well-rehearsed speech that's been boiling in the back of my mind for so long, spilling the phrases and repetitions and evidence, and how I'm the Sheriff who's going to save the town because he is definitely the Serial Killer without a doubt and–

"I believe this meeting is adjourned," the Mayor says slowly just as the town almost votes him up to the stand and I want to howl at him and rip him apart with my own hands. He whispers something to him, and nods in dismissal. "Good night, town." he says but it isn't a good night, not until he hangs and the noose winds around his throat and rope burns at him like how I burn in hatred every night.

What I don't expect is for someone to tackle me from behind as a I turn to leave, a blindfold wrapped tight around my head and a gag stuffed in my mouth before something heavy hits me on the back of my head and everything is gone.

"Role." He says, and I gasp when the gag is ripped away.

But the voice– the voice– it's–

"ROLE," he says again, louder this time, and I wince. I'm still blindfolded, but I recognise that voice. I would recognise that voice anywhere.

"Sh-Sheriff," I say, and my voice is horrifyingly pathetic sounding, in front of my mortal enemy, no less.

"Liar," he hisses and I wince again when I hear him rummaging for something. I know what Jailors do when they're not convinced by their prisoners, and then a knife rests on my throat. A tiny sound makes its way from my throat, and I struggle against the handcuffs that are keeping me bound to a wooden chair. "You have until sunrise to convince me," he says. I half snarl again at him, my rage seething and rising up even when a steel edge rests against my throat. The idiot, I'm blindfolded! What sort of good would that do? How am I supposed to know when sunrise is?

"Fuck you," I spit. It's useless to try to break free from a Jailor's handcuffs, but I try anyway.

"You're not being very convincing," he mocks and presses a thin, neat gash into my neck and hot blood runs down my throat. "Don't you want to live? It'd be a shame if you were Town and didn't survive the night."

"Die, you asshole."

I don't know what to think when he sighs and lifts away the knife, uncuffs my hands, and sets me loose back into the town. It's somehow sunrise already, and I'm no closer to getting him lynched than yesterday. At this rate, he'll never hang. The Mayor's on his side. He can confirm that he jailed me. I know that I can't defend myself against the word of both the Jailor and the Mayor.

"He's the Serial Killer!" I roar, and he just shakes his head, like he's scolding a child. The Mayor whispers to him, and he whispers back with a smug, hideous smile on his face. He turns to me and makes a gesture of slitting his throat. The shallow gash stings a bit, just a bit, but it doesn't matter at all to me. He doesn't seem to realise that I don't fear death. As long as I live long enough to see him crushed and broken for the whole town to see, I'll have everything I ever wanted in life. And damn it, I WILL see him hang even if I have to give my own life to do it. I have nothing to live for, nothing to hope for– the only thing that matters to me anymore is him. I can be happy if he's on the other side of the noose just this once.

The townsfolk look between him and me and the Mayor, at my visage of rage to his of calm indifference to the Mayor's charming public persona.

Someone's voted up, and he turns out to be a Framer. I curl my lip to stare across at my enemy again, only to realise he's no longer there and something hits me on the back of my head before I can fight back.

"Role," he says again. The blindfold is back, the handcuffs are back, the voice is back.

"Sheriff, I told you."

"Stop. Lying." He commands, and I would have laughed. What right did he have to order me around, when he was the one at fault for everything, when he could have the Mayor in his pocket and the town to believe him while I had no one at all to care about me or what I did? Why should he deserve to hear what he should already know?

Still. I humour him. "Executioner," I bite out with rage. "And you ruined my life."

"Now, when did I ever do that?"

And there it is again. That smug, mocking voice that pretends nothing is wrong and I'm the one to blame here. I dream about that voice, and I dream about that voice's last dying gasps.

"Just kill me already," I snarl in rage, trying to break free again even though I still know the handcuffs will never give way. "If you won't die, then kill me! Just let me die!" I scream raggedly, thrashing and reaching for his knife so I can do the deed myself if he still refuses. He won't have the enjoyment of seeing me die and destroying the last thing that's mine to have.

"No, I don't think I will," he says in a disinterested voice. "The Mayor's protected by a personal Bodyguard, so I think I'll keep you here. You're a lovely conversation partner, after all."

And then he laughs. He has the nerve to laugh at me, and this is the last straw. I let out a strangled scream and lunge for where I can hear his voice, toppling over the chair and collapsing on the ground, scraping my face against the floor. He's still no more dead than before, and I let out a sob of frustration because I'm on the ground and he's still standing like always. It's almost like I'll never see him hang, but I can't stop believing. He has to die. He has to. If he doesn't die... If he doesn't die, I'll...

"Well, I think it's almost sunrise," he says slowly, in a strange tone. He uncuffs my hands like usual, and helps me stand before shooing me off.

I hate him so much.

I walk to the town square, eyes red-rimmed and sleepless again. Maybe he thinks he can break me. Maybe he expects me to crack at some point, to confess that he really isn't the Serial Killer. I step over a corpse, and the accusations begin again.

"I told you! He's the Serial Killer!" I let out a harsh bark of laughter, and I'm desperate now. He has to see that I'll never confess. He's guilty as can be, even if he isn't a Serial Killer. The town just needs the right vision, and they'll see it! They'll all see how pathetic and vulnerable their precious Jailor really is, and then I can be happy again.

He's still embroiled in a discussion with the Mayor. Nothing gets done, and I wait for the familiar clout to the head.

It doesn't come, and instead someone slips a blindfold over my eyes and leads me by the wrist, off to the familiar town jail.

"Fuck you," I say as I'm cuffed to the wooden chair again. I say it, but there's no real emotion in it. Testing the cuffs and trying to shake the chair, I realise that he's bolted the chair to the ground so I can't topple it to the ground again in protest. "Fuck you!" I say again, louder this time, and the anger is audible in my voice.

"I don't want to hurt you," he begins and then pauses on hearing my laughter. "Believe me. I don't want to hurt you."

"Haven't you hurt me enough? You have to take everything from me, and destroy it all, and then lock me in jail every night but you refuse to kill me?" My voice crack at that last part, and maybe the lack of sleep is getting to me. Being knocked out can't be that good for you. " Just kill me already! Kill me, you idiot," I breathe a ragged gasp and struggle at my bindings like I do every night, even if it's useless, and I scream and laugh at him. "Kill me already, you idiot! Let me die! Kill me!"

He sighs, and I only barely hear it. I probably wouldn't have caught it if I didn't latch onto every word he said in that voice that I hated night after night.

"Look, I think you need some sleep. I know I've been knocking you out and questioning you for the last few nights, and I'm sorry." He cuts me off before I can begin laughing again. "I don't know what I've done to you, but I'm sorry."

I relish how he seems lost once he realises that I'm still laughing at him, hot tears soaking through my blindfold and choking up my throat before he leads my cuffed hands away to a bed.

I dream of nooses.

The day is uneventful again. I scream accusations, and it's almost routine by now. They just won't listen. The town is filed with idiots: the Mayor, the Jailor, the Investigator, all the stupid little townspeople who decide to try to hang the Mafia when the real monster is their most trusted citizen. Nobody even looks at me anymore, and the Mayor just reassures them that I've already been taken care of, even while I scream that the only one who needs taking care of is the monster, the one who hides in their skin and pretends to be loyal when I'm the only one who knows better and have an idea of what things he's done, things that no human would do.

The sun sets, and I'm only further away from my goal than I started. I brace myself for the club, but a hand rests on my shoulder.

It's too much. I've had enough of life's bullshit, and I'm just tired of having to hear his voice and never see him hang from a noose; I collapse and howl with my raw throat to the stars, sobbing and screaming and blaming.

"Please..." he begs. I don't know why he's doing that. If he's going to beg for anything, it should be for the sweet release of death. The familiar metal clicks around my wrists, and I only scream louder at the sky, for being so unfair and letting him go on like this. He seems at a loss as to how to react to this, so he only holds my cuffed hands in his own as I scream.

When my eyes are dry and itchy from no more tears and I can only manage out a croak, he clasps a hand around my forearm again.

"Ready to go home?" he asks, and I want to tell him no, his home should be on the end of a noose and nowhere near me, but I let him lead me away back to the jail.


End file.
